What Friends Are For
by LadyKatie
Summary: House goes to live with Wilson after Mayfield, but like everything House does, it can’t be simple. Partly based on episode 6.03 promos! H/W Friendship. One-shot. SPOILERS!


**Summary:** House goes to live with Wilson after Mayfield, but like everything House does, it can't be easy. Based on spoilers for episode 6.03!! H/W Friendship. One-shot.

**Disclaimer: **_House M.D._ is owned by Fox, David Shore and others. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

What Friends Are For  
By LadyKatie

It was a two block walk from the bus stop to Wilson's place and it occurred to House more than once that it would have been simpler to call his friend for a ride, at least from the bus station. But Wilson was still on his shit list. If he were completely honest he understood why Wilson hadn't helped him when he called. And he could even reluctantly admit- to himself anyway- that Wilson did the right thing. That didn't mean he was going to be let off the hook so easy.

When he reached Wilson's door his leg was killing him and he just hoped that the man was home. He should be. It was Saturday morning and even if Wilson had decided to go into work he wouldn't have left yet. He rapped the door with his cane and waited. From the sound of things, Wilson had been in the kitchen and from the smell that House was just noticing he was baking cookies. It was such a Wilson thing to do on a Saturday morning.

The door opened to reveal Wilson's stunned expression.

"House! You're home."

House pushed his way past him, his mind only thinking about the couch and his aching leg.

"I apparently don't get to go to _my_ home for a while. Nolan told me you volunteered to babysit."

"I thought it would be sometime next week. You didn't… escape, did you?"

"Don't think I'm sane enough to be released?"

"No, I just… Why didn't you call?"

"Last time I called you hung up on me."

"House, that was different. That was for your own good. You know I didn't have much choice and obviously it worked if Nolan thought you were ready."

"Yep. I'm good as new. I'm a more loveable, cuddly Greg House. How 'bout a hug, Jimmy?"

He held his arms out wide as Wilson stared at him in disbelief. "You're not… Are you serious? I mean if you want a hug, then sure, but…"

House chuckled to himself as he dropped his arms to his sides.

"You got gullible while I was gone. This is going to be fun."

"You haven't changed at all, have you?"

House frowned. "Were you hoping I would?"

"No, I wanted you to get better and I wondered a lot if that would change you. It hasn't." He paused. "You _are_ better, right?"

"Not seeing dead people anymore. And I'm pretty sure that the sex I had last week wasn't hallucinated."

"You didn't have sex in the hospital."

House smirked up at him, watching Wilson's eyes widen.

"You did? No! With one of the patients?"

"Yeah, it was part of their recovery program. I'm sure the suicide rate will go up now that they don't have me."

"Right. You're not serious." It was a statement, but said with a certain amount of uncertainty that was always present with House.

"I guess you'll never know, Jimmy."

"Are you hungry? I was just about to start lunch. And I've got chocolate chip cookies in the oven." He started for the kitchen. "I was going to go into work for a couple hours later, but that can wait. And I know you said your leg pain was manageable, but you can take my bed while you're here if the couch would be too uncomfortable."

House studied him carefully from his spot on the couch, deciding how best to go about this.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Doing what?"

"Letting me inconvenience you."

Wilson stopped what he was doing and came out to the living room again. "I'm your friend; that's what friends do."

"You're not my friend unless it's convenient for you. This is certainly not convenient, so I'm just wondering why."

Wilson's mouth hung open in surprise. "That's… not true."

House rolled his eyes. "Let's count how many times you walked out on me when I needed you, not even counting your abandonment of me in the institution."

"Sure. While we're at it we can count up the times _you_ weren't there for _me_. And the times that I walked out on a wife or girlfriend because you called. Let's see just how many times I've sacrificed my own happiness for you, House!"

It was rapidly disintegrating into a very heated fight and House knew that he was picking it for no real reason. It had been too long since a good fight with Wilson and it seemed like the thing to do.

"You don't sacrifice for _me_. You sacrifice for you and your pathetic need to rescue people. It has nothing to do with me. I could be a homeless puppy for all you care. You want things to not work out. You want to be miserable. If your marriage actually worked out you wouldn't know how to handle it. So you sabotage it. You get a loser friend who always needs you. Or you have to spend the night with one of your dying patients, anything so you don't have to be home to face the misery head on. It has nothing to do with me. I'm just a convenient distraction when you need it. Until I'm not convenient anymore, then you dump me and claim you're taking the moral high road."

"I have not--"

"I could start listing them off."

"I'm there for you. I loan you money, pick you up in the middle of the night…"

"So you can lecture me about drinking so much!"

"Well what should I do?"

"Just ask me! Have you ever asked why I drink this much? You ever once wonder why I try to self destruct?"

Wilson snorted. "You wouldn't tell me if I did ask."

"You don't know that. You can't; you never asked." Wilson didn't answer. "You never once tried to find out why I act out. You just assumed that it was just part of who I am."

"Because you've been like this for as long as I've known you!"

"Whatever. I shouldn't have to stay with you anyway. Don't those idiots know that's the quickest way to drive me insane all over again?"

Wilson let out a long-suffering sigh. "Nolan doesn't want you to be overwhelmed. He wants someone to be nearby in case you have a problem."

"So you're keeping tabs on me, sending reports back to the asylum?"

"It's not like that. It's just helpful to have someone to make sure you're not slipping."

"So they give me the guy who didn't even notice I was losing my mind in the first place."

Wilson felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "What was I supposed to notice? Your drug use that's been going on for the past ten years? Your erratic and often dangerous behavior that you've engaged in since birth? Given what I was working with, can you really blame me for not working it all out? If I thought it would help you I would have arranged an intervention ages ago. You would have laughed and walked away. You don't care if anyone cares about you."

"Right. Blame the sick one."

Wilson put hands up in surrender, not trusting himself to open his mouth right away. He retreated back into the kitchen for a minute while House waited patiently to see what his next move would be. Maybe it wasn't very fair to put Wilson through this right away, but he needed to say it. If he didn't then everything he'd spent those months in Mayfield doing would be wasted. He looked up when Wilson reentered the living room looking tired and confused.

"House, I don't even know what to say to you. What do you want me to do? Apologize? I'm sorry for not noticing that you needed help. I… don't know how to help you half the time. I know that you're my best friend, that I don't want you to self destruct. Or to _want_ to self destruct. But I don't know when you need me because you play these stupid games that end in me screaming at you across my apartment instead of just _telling_ me what you need."

And House found that _that_ was what he really needed. He really only wanted Wilson to admit it. He wanted Wilson to admit that he didn't have a clue for once, that he couldn't fix _everyone_. He couldn't deal with Wilson when he was trying to fix him, but he could use a friend who just wanted to help. He nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"House, what was that? You pick a fight just so you can give up on it a minute later? That doesn't make any sense."

"Well then by all means, ship me back to the asylum."

He sighed and shook his head.

"I need you to be on my side, Wilson."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I needed to know that you would do anything to help me right now."

Wilson held up a cautious hand. "You're really starting to scare me."

"I'm going to quit the hospital."

"W-what?"

"I need you to be on my side when it happens because Cuddy won't be. Most people won't get this."

"Why would you quit? You love your job. And Cuddy is the only administrator who puts up with your shit."

"No more shit, no more patients. I'm going to do something else, something that has less responsibility, less stress."

"No, you love your job. You wouldn't just quit without a good reason!"

"I have the best reason ever: my mental health. I've thought about this a lot."

"But the hospital… Pretty much everyone you know or socialize with at all is there."

"Then it's a good thing I'm living with you." He broke eye contact then and played with his cane nervously. "I don't want to do this without you, but if you can't support my decision then… well, I have to do what's best for my health."

"I don't know what to say. I'm just not used to mature, thought-out decisions from you."

"And yet if I had suggested we go out and TP Cuddy's house you would have gone along without question."

"You have to admit, it's a little more… you."

House looked up at him seriously. "No, it's not."

Wilson nodded in understanding. "So if you're quitting the hospital then where are you going to work?"

"I don't know. Research maybe. Maybe something at the school. I want to stay in Princeton." He studied Wilson's face and smirked. "You look skeptical."

"Can you blame me?" He sighed. "House, if you need this, then I'm with you. But you can understand why I might think that this is a little- pardon the expression- insane."

"Ha! Good joke."

"You only ever teach if Cuddy makes you. And even then you usually spend the entire class period playing your video games."

"I do good teaching sometimes."

"Once. When you were feeling nostalgic because Stacy had just walked back into your life after five years. Hearing yourself talk for two hours was just a coping mechanism. Every time you fill in for a class you whine about how big of idiots the med students are. And research? Really? It would bore you to tears in the first week."

"I have to try. No patients means less pressure, less chance of going back to old habits."

"Are you sure you're not just afraid of trusting yourself with them again?"

He didn't answer.

"Really, House. You had Amber running loose in your head for a couple weeks telling you how to treat patients and torturing you. You missed diagnoses and had a meltdown and you're very lucky nobody died."

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?"

"I'm saying you don't trust that to not happen again. And if it does, what's to say that you won't kill someone next time? I don't think it has anything to do with stress."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I'm quitting. Are you behind me on this?"

"Of course I am."

House nodded. "Good. I'm hungry."

Wilson turned back into the kitchen. "Well, there are cookies. If they're not burned by now."

House got up and followed him to the oven. He noticed the first batch of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter and grabbed one up. The minute the milk chocolate gooiness hit his tongue he moaned in ecstasy. Wilson quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What? You try eating asylum food for a couple months and then judge me."

"You know, I really missed you, House."

"And I…" House took a deep breath. "I really missed… your cooking."

Wilson grinned as he turned back to the oven-hot cookies.

"So who _did_ you have sex with at Mayfield?"


End file.
